


Coming Home

by kirasha, Titti



Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-17
Updated: 2010-11-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 20:37:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirasha/pseuds/kirasha, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titti/pseuds/Titti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mission takes G away and the team changes during his absence. His return means dealing with these changes and with Sam's growing realization about his feelings towards his partner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2010 ncis_bigbang

The lights were down through the building. Sam had watched as one by one, everyone had gone home and he’d stayed with his paperwork. He was starting to understand why G never slept; all these forms would give the bravest man nightmares.

He rubbed the back of his neck as he looked at the report in front of him. He couldn’t even see the words anymore, and he wasn’t getting anything from the report other than he missed his partner. Three months without G had changed so much. The team didn’t feel the same. Marty Deeks had been made a full time agent, something Hetty had been planning for over a year if Sam’s instincts were right; they were short a man; and, Sam was in charge. But the most impact wasn’t on the team, but on Sam himself.

“You’re still here.”

Sam looked up and smiled when he saw Nate standing there. Their psychologist had returned from his secret mission a different man. He was still Nate, but there was a confidence in him that hadn't been there before, also an understanding that came from someone who'd seen things first hand, but most telling was the hunted look that all field agents had. “So are you.”

“I went back to look at something for Hetty. You know how she is,” he answered.

“Slave master,” Sam answered, chuckling, betraying none of the inner turmoil, although why he bothered he didn’t know. Nate seemed to have spider sense that had nothing to do with his training. He was as stubborn as a mule, proven by the fact that he took a seat instead of leaving.

“It must be hard without Callen here,” he said as a non sequitur.

“The paper work certainly is,” Sam answered. “He owes me, keeping it all up to date.”

“And keeping his team safe,” Nate pointed out. “You’re doing a good job.”

Sam sighed as he closed the file in front of him. “I guess I am; we’re all alive.”

“But you can’t keep him safe.”

“I passed my psych review. Last week, in fact,” Sam said, tiredly. People seemed to ask the same thing over and over, walking on egg shells every time G was mentioned, even indirectly. “If something were wrong, we’d know.”

“I know, but it can’t make it easier. We don’t know where he is, what he’s doing, and you don’t have his back. That’s hard for all agents, especially for you and Callen.”

Sam’s head snapped up and he fixed Nate with a glare. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Nate didn’t answer immediately, but instead stared at Sam, as if studying him, and it made Sam’s skin crawl because this was how Nate came to those telling conclusions that could be very useful in a case and incredibly annoying in your private life. “I meant since you’re more than partners, but friends,” he said, slowly as if he were reevaluating his conclusion.

“Partners are more than friends,” Sam said, standing up. It was time to end this conversation because he wasn’t ready to face why G’s absence was affecting him so much, and he didn’t want Nate to come to some weird conclusion - correct or not. “I’m going home.”

Nate nodded. “Yes, you do that and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

* * *

Kensi took off her shoes. “Whoever makes these things should be sent to a maximum security prison and never let out.”

Marty put his arm around her. “You kicked ass on those.”

Sam snorted. “Are we still talking about the case?”

“Hey, I was showing proper respect for an agent that can take down a 6’2” man while wearing four inch stilettos,” Marty said.

“I vote for no more club ops,” Kensi said as she sat down.

Marty leered at her. “With the way you look? I vote for all our ops to be inside clubs.” He looked up at Sam. “You’re the tie breaker here.”

Sam chuckled. “You two need to find a room and never tell me about it. Especially if you kill him,” he told Kensi.

“As much as I don’t like to interfere with your private life, murder would impact our job,” Hetty said as she walked out of her office. “Congratulations to all of you. Another successful mission. Director Vance was pleased with the speed of the arrest.” Her eyes stopped on Sam. “May I have a word with you, Mr. Hanna?”

“Sure.” Sam turned to the rest of his team. “Great work, even in heels,” he added with a smile. “Go home, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” He followed Hetty without looking back, the shuffling was more than enough to let him know Kensi and Marty were making a quick exit before something else kept them awake for the night. “So what’s up, Hetty?” he asked as he sat down.

Hetty took her place behind her desk. “I was discussing the current operation with the director when he was informed of the successful completion of another mission. Mr. Callen is flying into D.C. for his debriefing. He should be back with us in a few days.”

Sam smiled. “That’s good.”

“It is good, indeed.” Hetty paused, taking her time as usual, picking her words with great care. “His last long-term undercover mission predates his promotion as lead agent. Adjusting under current circumstances might not be as easy.”

“He’ll be fine,” Sam answered.

“I believe that he will be, but he will not have the time to adjust, not with a team to lead,” Hetty continued. “For that reason, you’ll remain in charge until he undergoes his psych evaluation.” She raised a hand to forestall any objection. “He will get a day or two to settle back in and he will have to speak to Nate.”

“You’re trying to force him to talk to Nate. He won’t like that,” Sam answered.

“I am following procedure.”

Sam sighed. “He still won’t like it.” He couldn’t say he liked it himself. Being in charge with G there would be strange. It wasn’t how things were supposed to work. “Only for a few days.”

“If he talks to Nate,” Hetty stated. “And Mr. Hanna, you could be in charge for a lot longer than a few days.”

Sam tensed because Hetty didn’t make comments without a reason. He might be a good intelligence agent, but it was late, he was too tired and Hetty was too good, so he decided to go for the direct approach. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“There’s an opening at the Contingency Response Field Office. Your name might have been brought up.” She looked at him. “Something to think about.”

This was the part of the job that he hated: the politics. He didn’t know exactly what all of this meant, but tonight was not the time to unravel her words. “I will, but for now I’m going to bed.”

“As you should,” she answered. “I shall see you tomorrow.”

* * *

The key stuck in the lock on the doorknob. He had to wiggle it a bit to get the door open. He kept putting off getting that one lock replaced. Once inside, satisfied all was as he left it, locks secured, he made his way to the bedroom. In point of fact, there were three bedrooms. But, this was the only one of the three with any sign of occupancy. If a rolled up sleeping bag and a working lamp counted as signs of occupancy to anyone other than G Callen.

What few clothes he owned were in the worn duffel bag G deposited on the floor before opening the closet door. The closet itself was empty. But, the engraving on the edge of the door held his focus. _G. Callen '83_. His fingers ran over the crude carving. Closing the closet, he went back, unrolled the sleeping bag and sat down, looking around the room.

After a few minutes, he stood up again and walked into the kitchen. The counters were nearly bare, only a toaster and a canister of tea. There were a few dishes in one cupboard, including the plain white mug he took out now. A tea kettle was taken from the only other cupboard that wasn't empty and filled with water. A short while later, he poured boiling water over the tea now placed inside the mug.

Carrying the mug with him, he walked around the house. There was a box on the mantle in what had once been a home office. The box used to hold tea and now it held the one picture from his childhood G owned. He'd thought about getting a desk for this room. Curtains would come first, he thought, taking a sip of tea and staring out the window into the night, where nothing moved.

Each room was visited, inspected, and then he found himself back in his bedroom where he meticulously put his clothes back in the closet. Once that was done, he eyed the sleeping bag. G didn't sleep on planes. After flying cross-country, he should sleep. Hetty would tell him to sleep. Sam would tell him to sleep.

Striping down to T-shirt and boxers, he set his half-empty mug of tea near the sleeping bag and sat down to take his laptop out of the duffel bag. Flipping it on, it took a few minutes to bring up the program he wanted. When he had it up, he set the laptop open by his side, arm tucked under his head, and recited the phrases with the program.

"Ja hotel by posmotret'..."

Russian - “I would like to see...”

* * *

"Callen, welcome back." Kensi had him in a hug by the time he'd walked two steps away from the front door.

Letting her go after briefly returning it, G stepped away with a nod. "Thanks."

"Welcome back, Mr. Callen." Hetty, unsurprisingly, was right behind Kensi, though thankfully without the hugging. That would have been too odd for words, despite how long he'd been away. "And, congratulations on a mission well done."

"Thank you, Hetty." Now the initial exchange of greetings was over, it was time to get back to work. G looked over to his desk where it sat empty next to Sam's empty desk. “He’s being lazy,” he said with the hint of a smile that it was as much emotion as G showed.

“Talk for yourself,” Sam said from upstairs. “I’ve been here hours.” He chuckled when Hetty cleared her throat. “Or close to one hour,” he continued.

“Because I’m a genius,” Eric put in.

Sam rolled his eyes. “He’s found Bazhunaishvili.”

“Oh man.” Marty grinned as he started to climb the stairs with Kensi behind him. “I love you so much that I could kiss you.”

“As long as you keep your tongue inside your mouth,” Eric answered. “Besides, I thought you wanted to kiss Kensi.”

“I’m tired of being a second choice. You only come to me when you can’t be with each other,” Kensi deadpanned.

“Children, let’s settle down. We have work to do.” Sam looked down at G and nodded toward the op room, before straightening up and walking toward the room.

G was left there, taking in how much things had changed in a short time, and they didn’t even seem to notice. It was business as usual for them.

“They will need you upstairs, Mr. Callen.” Hetty stood watching him.

“Do they?”

Hetty nodded. “They do and they will, but you need time to settle in again. Now, I believe we have a terrorist to catch.”

* * *

Sam clicked the button on the remote and the imagine of a man in his fifties came into focus. “Veli Bazhunaishvili, born in Tirana in 1954. He lived under Enver Hoxha’s regime and joined the Albanian military at eighteen. Nothing remarkable about his career, at least until Hoxha died in ‘85. As soon as they open relationships with the West, Bazhunaishvili started a little side business, mostly smuggling people out of Albania for a profit. With time, he got more ambitions. He used the ‘97 riot as his own golden mine. In addition to smuggling people, he started to smuggle just about anything, drugs, arms, women. He provided the perfect conduit to the West. His empire got bigger when Albania joined NATO in April of 2009.”

“Until now, he’s avoided a trip to the US,” Eric continued, “but this morning, we got a hit. He’s been staying in Canada. He took a flight out of Toronto last night and landed at LAX early this morning. He has a departure ticket in ten days.”

Sam put a new photo on the screen. “Joseph Variale, Albanian mother and Italian father. He’s been Bazhunaishvili’s right hand man for over a decade. He moved to the US in 2001 when he married a U.S. citizen with Albanian parents. He got his residency in 2002 and his citizenship in 2005. INS never found anything on him, and neither did the background checks. He owns a club-”

Kensi sighed. “I hate clubs.”

Sam chuckled. “Noted. We think he uses it to smuggle drugs. The prostitution gives him a nice side income, especially since not all the women are willing or being paid and an easy way to sell his drugs at a retailer level. As far as we can tell, there are no arms deals made there. No one has ever been able to pin anything on him.”

“I made contact with him about a month ago,” Marty said. “We have a cover in place. We’ve got a house, a beautiful family,” he added, hugging Kensi, who snorted. “They like family men.”

“We arrested his lawyer on unrelated offenses. He got a deal and part of the deal was to recommend our very own Mr. James Wilson, attorney at law. Variale thinks that his attorney got disbarred on misappropriation of escrow money. We were hoping to shut him down, but we never hoped to get Bazhunaishvili. He’s never been to the U.S., but since he’s here, something big must be happening.” Sam looked at the two agents. “Go home, get your things, and you move into the house. You’ll keep your cover for the next ten days.”

“They like to do things as legally as they can,” Marty added. “If something is happening, we’ll know soon enough.”

Kensi took Marty’s arm. “Dear James, time to play house.”

G watched as the two left the room and then looked at Sam. “That’s a lot of ground work you’ve done.”

“We’ve had time,” Sam said with a shrug.

“Are they ready for this type of operation?” he asked with a frown.

“It’s ten days, and they have us for back up,” Sam answered.

“House is completely tapped,” Eric said. “If anyone breathes, we know. We have hidden cameras in every room, we’ve tried to limit the blind spots.”

“It’s not the house that worries me,” G said.

“They’ll be fine. Kensi even promised not to kill him if he snores.” Sam kept a straight face even after Eric chuckled. “We have nothing to do but wait until he makes contact. You could talk to Nate so I don’t have to do this.”

“Soon,” G answered before leaving the op room and going downstairs.

* * *

Sam took a sip of coffee. Two days later, they had been sitting in the car for hours in what had to be the most boring stakeout in their partnership. “You haven’t said anything for three hours.”

“I go away for three months and you learn to exaggerate,” G answered, dismissing Sam’s complaint.

“‘Cold coffee sucks’ doesn’t constitute talking and that was almost two hours ago,” Sam pointed out. “Even if it really sucks. Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

The other man shook his head, still keeping his eyes focused on the outside of their car. “You know I can’t. Need to know.”

Diversion tactics wouldn’t work so easily on Sam. They both knew that G wasn’t allowed to discuss the mission and Sam wasn’t going to rise to the bait and argue that he would never ask about that. Instead, he kept talking calmly. “I’m not asking about the mission, but you could talk about things you did or the Italian restaurant you liked.”

G chuckled. “How do you know I went to an Italian restaurant or even that there was one?”

“There’s always an Italian restaurant. It’s a law of nature like the fact that stakeouts are boring, that this is the greatest nation in the world, and that there is always an Italian restaurant, no matter where you go. Considering some of the places they send us, the Italian restaurant is better than anything else around,” Sam answered.

G snorted, before showing a real smile. “I didn’t go to an Italian restaurant.”

“Your loss.” Sam smirked as he looked at his partner, even if G still hadn’t looked at him

“I had food,” G answered.

“Yes, but now you can’t tell me all about the great Italian restaurant you found,” Sam teased, hoping to get more than a smile from the other agent.

“When’s the last time that you saw me going to a fancy Italian restaurant?” G asked.

“Never, and this could have been the perfect opportunity; you would have something to tell me.”

G chuckled. “Sorry.” He paused a moment. “I can make it up.”

“It’s not the same.” It also didn’t help assuage Sam’s fears. He wasn’t one to take any mission lightly, the most innocent distraction could lead to horrible consequences. He understood the need to focus, but the point of a cover story was to give the opportunity to relax while maintaining that cover. G should have something to say, even about something as stupid as a visit to a restaurant, unless he spent all of his time locked in a room when he wasn’t working. Knowing G as well as he did, it was looking like that was exactly what he had done.

“Are you pouting?”

“I don’t pout.” Sam sighed. He was still looking at his friend, because there was no need to look outside. G had yet to look anywhere else. “I’m wondering what’s going on with you. You haven’t talked to Nate, you barely say a word to anyone, and you won’t talk to me.”

“Did Hetty put you up to this?” G asked, showing a hint of annoyance, but it was short-lived, before his returned to a monotone. “She’s been hounding me.”

Sam shook his head. “She hasn’t said anything; she didn’t have to. You’re my partner; I know you.”

“I feel like I don’t know anyone. The team feels different.” G cracked a smile. “You’ve done a good job. I’ve looked over the reports.”

“They tell me that how I act impacts how people view my boss,” Sam answered.

“Hetty must be pleased then,” G said.

With anyone else, it would have been a joke, but G was serious, and Sam knew it. “I meant you, G. This is your team. They need you here, not just your body, but your head, too. They are smart and they’ll know if you aren’t completely here.”

“I’m here.”

Sam shook his head. “No, G, you’re not. You came back, but you aren’t back. You’re sitting back and watching me do your job. Talk to Nate and get your team back.”

“Soon,” G said.

“You’ve already said that and haven’t done anything about it,” he said. “Tonight. Start there, and if you need time after that, we’ll see.”

“Your inspirational speech is going to have to wait.” He nodded toward window. “That’s our man. Time to work.”

* * *

Sam followed as G stormed into the building. Neither was talking. They had exchanged words in the car, a few sentences almost yelled, and then silence. Sam wondered how long it would last.

Eric arrived with his skateboard, stopping right in front of G and ignoring the glare he was getting. “Kensi and Marty are on your man. It’s all cool.”

“It’s not cool,” G answered. “We lost him.”

“What exactly happened?” Hetty asked as she stepped down from her office.

“We were too busy discussing Italian restaurants,” G answered.

Sam rolled his eyes. “We didn’t lose him. There was no way to stay on him without being made.”

“We could have-”

“No, we couldn’t have, G, not without risking the operation,” Sam said.

“We could have stayed on him if we were careful,” G repeated.

“Kensi and Marty were only five minutes away, they picked up the tail, and everything is fine.”

“We shouldn’t have-’ He raised his arm in frustration.

“What, G? What should we have done?” Sam asked.

“We should have taken care of this ourselves,” G answered.

“No, that’s why we have a team.” He shook his head. “I’m going to the op room and see what Kensi and Marty can tell us.” Without waiting for an answer, he walked up the stairs.

* * *

Callen was sitting back at his desk, laptop open, fingers tapping at keys with systematic precision. In a matter of a few days, he'd worked through background information it had taken a month to put together. From where Nate stood, it was the perfect picture of focus. He was sure the man knew he was nearby and watching, waiting. But, there was no sign of such knowledge, and there wouldn't be until Callen was ready to talk.

"I believe the professional analysis is he's avoiding you." Hefty came up to stand next to him, her attention also focused on their newly returned lead agent.

"Should have let me use a gun," Nate chuckled. "Would make him more comfortable."

Hetty fixed him with a look. "Perhaps," she agreed with a faint smile. They were silent for a moment, both watching Callen. Sam came in and Callen looked up, then both looked away and went back to their work, Callen at his desk, Sam heading upstairs. It was as much interaction as they'd seen between them since the pair returned from stakeout. "Talk to him, Nate. Before something breaks."

"Yes, ma'am" Nate would have said more, but Hetty had already moved away toward the subject of their conversation.

G closed out one file and pulled up the next. The mug of tea by the computer had cooled some time ago without his notice. Things in the office were quiet. Nate was hovering; Eric and Ty were mumbling excitedly over some new system upgrade. It wasn't difficult to hear Sam come through on his way upstairs with only a look and a passing nod.

It seemed the team had been busy while he was gone.

"Is that peony white needle tea you've let grow into an arctic state unfit to drink?" Hetty stood at the side of his desk with a connoisseur's disapproving frown.

G looked at the mug, then back at her. Hetty sighed.

"I believe you might soon give Nate a complex the longer you go without speaking to him." From anyone else, the smile she gave him might have been neutral. G knew better. This was Hetty and they'd been having this same conversation in various shapes and forms since he'd walked into the office a few days ago.

"I've spoken to Nate," G said, eyes on the screen. "I said good morning."

"Do not play dumb with me, Mr. Callen. You are better than that." G sighed inwardly and looked up, ready to say something. But, she held up a finger. "This team needs you; Mr. Hanna needs you, which means you need to talk to Nate. He will understand."

G stared at her in silence. The amount of files he'd been speed reading through for days argued against her reasoning. His eyes slid toward where Nate stood nearby before turning back to the screen. And, his answer was the same as it had been since he came back. "I know he will. I’ll talk to him soon."

Hetty shook her head. "Today, Mr. Callen."

* * *

Sam leaned his elbows on the rail and looked down at the floor, the people going about their business, learning other people’s business. A normal day. Like any other.

But, it wasn’t.

“Enjoying the view, Mr. Hanna?” Hetty was a mistress of stealth, Sam decided, as the operations manager appeared seemingly from nowhere at his elbow.

“It’s a good view,” he said, smiling. It was a good view. It was also a view he’d gotten a better appreciation for over the course of the last three months, as well as a better appreciation for what it took to be the man in charge of it.

“It is indeed.” Hetty wasn’t looking at him. But, it felt like her eyes were on him. “A very good view. One it would be a shame to lose?”

Sam snorted, but said nothing. A movement down below caught his attention. G coming back to his desk. His partner’s distance from the team was the flaw in that view, the piece that didn’t fit quite right with the rest of the puzzle.

“Have you told him?”

“I would have to know before I could tell him,” Sam answered. “Names come up all the time and it doesn’t mean anything. If it’s a sure thing, then he’ll know when I do.” He looked down at Hetty. “Do I know?”

Hetty gave a little _hmph_ , still watching the floor and G. “No, you don’t know yet, but this isn’t the Navy, Mr. Hanna. Things aren’t as black and white, and I have some say in things. Do let me know when you’ve reached your own decision.”

As she walked away, Sam turned back to his previous watch. G had disappeared from view again. Sam could give him a few more days, at least until he made up his own mind. If G hadn't talked to Nate by then, then maybe Sam would have something to tell.

* * *

Special agents weren’t the only ones who could sneak up on you. Hetty was a master at this; Nate had learned, even if he still wasn’t as good as the rest. Still, when G closed the file cabinet, Nate was standing between him and any possible escape. “Hetty said to expect you yesterday. It’s very unusual for her to be wrong, unless you’re avoiding me to make a point with her.”

“I haven’t been avoiding you. I have a case to solve.” G made no attempt to move past him. “Things come up. Like a psychologist cornering someone by the filing cabinet.” Smirking slightly, he did move now, stepping around Nate to return to his desk.

“I wasn’t cornering you; I was walking by and decided to see if this was a good time,” Nate answered, not put off by G’s attempts at avoiding this session. “This would go much easier, if you just gave me ten minutes. I could write my report, Hetty would be happy, and you’d get your team back. It’s not like this is the first time we’ve done this.”

It wasn’t. Of course, that should mean no one was surprised when G didn’t want to talk. “Easy means you don’t appreciate it as much once you get it.” Turning back, he looked at Nate for a moment. “Make it five minutes. And it’s Sam’s team. At least until this case is closed.”

“Sam has worked well with Kensi and Marty,” Nate answered, “but I don’t think they see this as Sam’s team.” He looked up. “Let’s go somewhere private, and no, the time to get there is not included in the ten minutes.” Nate moved to the side to give G room without having to walk around him. “I won’t be the only one appreciating it.”

G chuckled, but followed. It was easier than getting into the fine distinctions of these things. “Five minutes.”

Nate didn’t continue the argument, but went upstairs. He held the door open for G and then went to sit down. “We’ve missed you. Everyone has. Is there a reason why you don’t want to take lead again?”

G took a seat, watching Nate steadily. He liked Nate, but he hated these sessions, required for his job or not. “The team is in the middle of a case. They can’t afford the distraction of changing leadership mid-stream.”

“Very logical,” Nate said, calmly. “Logic makes things easier, doesn’t it?” He shifted, getting a better look at G. “Usually I would agree with you, but I’m confused by some of your recent behavior like avoiding Sam or trying to tail that suspect by yourself when Kensi and Marty were ready to do it. That doesn’t seem very logical. Do you want your team back?”

G paused before replying, weighing his words carefully. “I am not avoiding Sam. And I felt we could still stay on the tail.” Of course, they could have stayed on that tail. It was what they had to do. It was the sort of thing he’d had to do in Ireland for three months when there wasn’t another pair of agents to rely on to clean up his mistakes. “It was his call to make.”

His team.

“But you disagree with the call, even after it proved to be the right one,” Nate said. This was a game that they had played before. While asking questions was one of the cornerstones of psychology, experience had shown that it didn’t work with G and Nate was left with saying more than he would have liked. “It would have been the right call if you didn’t trust others, though. They didn’t go away, Callen. They are all here, waiting for you.”

G looked away, knowing it was a point for Nate in this mind game, to think about that. Sam was a good leader. The call proved logical in the end. They’d gotten what they needed. So, why _did_ it bother him so much? “I trust my team, Nate. There’s a fancy psychologist I’m not sure about at the moment.” His expression didn’t change, but it was clear he was joking. “But, I trust my team.”

Nate smiled at the jab. “I’m really trying to con you into multiple sessions with me so I can become rich,” he joked. “However, since I’m on a federal salary, I’ll be happy with the ten minutes you want to give me.” He kept his trained eyes on G, taking in all the little details. “You still haven’t told me why you disagreed with Sam even afterwards, when his decision proved to be the right one. Do you even know?”

“Should have been an agent. You would have learned how to pick a mark better.” G shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. He made the call. It worked the way he wanted. I don’t have to agree with it to go with it.” Partners disagreed. It was normal. He and Sam had disagreed on things before.

"Go with it?" Nate snorted. "That's one way of describing your reaction, but if things had been reversed, if you were the lead agent and Sam had reacted the way you had, what would you have said? Is this why you are avoiding Sam? Because no matter what you're telling me, you are."

That line of questioning was met with stony silence. This was why he hated these things. They made him question himself. He couldn’t afford to question. The agent who doubted his own ability to do the job was a dead agent in the field. And G had enough questions about himself he couldn’t answer. “I would expect that Sam would talk to me if he had a problem with my reaction, the same as I would talk to him.”

Raising an eyebrow, he added, “And your five minutes were up five minutes ago.”

"Ten minutes, and they might go faster if you talked to me," Nate said, before standing up. "We can try this again when you're ready."

* * *

Supposedly, G had spoken to Nate. Supposedly, because Hetty had told Sam that G had spoken to Nate, but that had been three days ago, not that Sam was counting. In those three days, G had made no move to take over the investigation, no attempt at taking a bigger role. Most of all, he hadn’t really talked to Sam, and Sam hadn’t had time to stop and talk, not with Bazhunaishvili leaving the next day.

Tonight everything was going to come at a close, at least when it came to the case. Marty had a late night meeting at the house. If they could get enough on tape, they would be able to wrap this up neatly and successfully.

Kensi was inside the house, in case something went wrong. Sam was once again sitting in a car, not too far from the house, with G sitting next to him. “This will be over by tomorrow.”

G nodded. “I know.”

“Are you taking the lead on our next case?” Sam asked.

“Of course.”

Sam nodded. “Of course,” he repeated, although nothing seemed so certain, not after what Hetty had told him. He needed to make up his mind, before telling G, but the man was part of his decision.

“We got them.” Eric’s voice spoke directly in his ear. “We have the location of the drugs. We’re sending LAPD.”

Finally, something to do. It would be better than sitting here, doing nothing. “All right. Tell us as soon as uniform confirms the location and then we move in to arrest them.”

Sam took out his gun and checked it, even though he knew that there was nothing wrong with it. He checked all of his weapons before going out. However, it was a reassuring act, something that he had done back in his Navy days. It made the time go by faster, but not fast enough to avoid another stretch of silence before Eric finally told them that LAPD had found both drugs and nine women held prisoner in the warehouse.

"Kensi, open the door. G and I are coming in. Make sure they stay in that room until we get there. Let's do this, keep it nice and clean, people." He looked at G and when G nodded, they both got out. Another few hours and this would be finally over.

* * *

A few months ago, it would have been natural at the end of a case to get into the same car, drive to Sam's (because G still hadn't really furnished the house), drink a beer and then go to sleep. G had even been able to sleep part of the night.

That had been before G had left for his mission.

Too many things felt different, though and Sam needed at least this one thing not to change. When they were done with the paperwork, crossed all their Ts and dotted all their Is, Sam picked up his duffel bag, waiting for G to do the same and then walked side by side with him, without talking.

Outside, he simply went to his car and opened the driver's side before getting into the driver's seat. Fortunately, G didn't make a big deal and got inside. The drive was just as quiet as all their time together, and not the easy going silence they had shared in the past.

At the house, Sam grabbed two bottles of Heineken, because a Bud wasn't strong enough for this. He handed on to G and then sat down at one end of the couch, watching G sit on the other side, with a huge elephant sitting right in the middle.

"Are you going to tell me what's eating you up?" Sam asked.

G didn’t open the bottle, just held it in his hands. He wasn’t staring at it, however, just down. After a few moments, he reached into his pocket. Pulling out a multi-tool pocket knife, he flipped the bottle opener out, opened the beer, and snapped the knife closed again, all in that same uneasy silence. Then the knife went back into his pocket and he took a swig from the bottle. When he lowered the bottle, he finally met Sam’s look.

“You run a good team,” was all he said.

"Thanks." It was Sam's turn to open his bottle and drink from it. "I meant what I said. I was keeping the team together for you. Did you talk to Nate? Because Hetty won't let you take lead if you don't." Sam was confused enough without having to be in charge of the case.

“I gave him five minutes.” One corner of G’s mouth turned up slightly.

Silence fell between them again. G’s focus returned to the bottle in his hand, rolling the neck of it slowly between his fingers, perfectly balanced and without a drop spilt. His face was the same inscrutable mask it had been for much of the nine days since he’d been back. Bringing the bottle to his lips, he took a long swallow then looked at Sam once more. “You made the right call with the tail,” he said at last. “It was the right call for the team.”

"I'm sure Hetty will be thrilled with that," Sam said with a snort. He rested the bottle on the arm rest, while his other arm stretched over the back of the couch and he shifted slightly to look at his friend. "I know it was; that didn't worry me. You make the decision, don't second guess yourself, and leave the worrying for the end, isn't that the way it goes? But I wasn't worried about that, G, because I knew it was the right call five minutes after I made it. I was worried about you, because three months ago, you would have known it was the right call, and you wouldn't have tried to do everything by yourself."

Sam leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, while the bottle dangled between his legs. He turned his head to look at G again. "I'm worried because you're my partner and my friend, but also because I might be transferred: lead position at the Contingency Response office. Nothing official yet, but Hetty mentioned it. She wants to know what I want."

“I see. Congratulations.” G stood up, set the bottle on the coffee table. But, he only moved as far as his own end of the couch, putting the arm between them as he turned to Sam and asked evenly. “What do you want?”

"I don't know, G. I don't like these political games. It was much easier with the Navy. They don't ask you what you want, you don't tell them. They just send you where you're needed. I have no idea what this is supposed to be. If they wanted to assign me there, then why bother asking me, right?" Sam raised his eyes and met G's. "We've got a good thing here, good team, Hetty. If she had asked me three months ago, I'd have told her immediately that I didn't want to go. Now, I don't know if I'm doing more harm than good here."

G frowned. “It’s a promotion, Sam. That’s what it is. You did a good job. I just told you, you’ve led a good team.”

Moving back to the couch, G sat down again, his beer remaining untouched on the table as he mirrored Sam’s position. “A lot seems to have changed in these past three months.” He paused, seeming to search for the right words, the fewest words. It was hard to tell. “Or maybe it just seems that way since I’ve come h-, come back. Been out of the loop a long time. But, the team is good. You made them that way while I was gone. You would be a good lead if that’s what you want to do. There or here.”

Sam chuckled. "That's more words that you've said in a nine days combined, but that's the problem with words, you actually tell people things. You've come home, G. This is home or it should be, and you are treating it like another one of your rent-by-the-week hotels. It's your team, not mine. I can't be a good lead here, because we already have a lead agent, and the team is good because of him- because of you. You need to let go of whatever happened the past three months. That was a mission, you've done it, and you're back now."

He put his bottle on the table, perfectly in line with the one G had rested there. "It's Georgia. I don't have to go across country for a promotion. I can wait until there's something closer, but I'm not in a rush. It seems to me like you do the same job, almost the same pay rate, but get a few more hours of paperwork per week. I can live without it and I don't need to be in control every moment of the day. I'm good taking orders. The question is whether the team is better off with me here or not."

“You’re almost as good as I am at avoiding questions.” G smirked, eyes narrowing slightly as he studied Sam. “Don’t have...can wait...none of that sounds like want. Stop thinking of the team. Answer the question. What do you want, Sam? Do you want to stay here, taking orders, dealing with a partner who’s clearly the true natural operator in this team? Or do you want the chance to take control and see what you can do with a team of your own?”

"Not trying to avoid anything, G. I just don't know. I should want it, right? Except that we're doing good work, here, and that's why I took this job. I work with a team, I've always worked with a team. It doesn't really matter who's in charge as long as the job gets done and we get it done." Sam sighed. "Maybe I don't want it, but I'm not looking at the big picture either. If they want me there, there might be a reason I don't know about."

Sam leaned back. He looked at G, taking his time and trying to pick the right words. "I don't want it, but I would still go if they sent me there. I wouldn't like it; I wouldn't like being away from the team or you."

“We’d have to break in new partners,” G said. Yet, while the words were almost teasing, his expression was serious as he turned his head to follow Sam’s movement as he sat back. He stared at Sam for a moment; he’d been doing that a lot tonight. When he finally looked away, one hand was already reaching for the beer again, bringing it to his lips almost before the next words were completely out of his mouth. “I didn’t like it, either.

“Gotten used to having you tagging around after me,” he added more lightly.

"Yeah, that sucks," Sam answered, with a tiny smile, but then his expression sobered. "What didn't you like? Being away from the team?" Neither of them was big on sharing or discussing feelings, but time had proven that G would never expose himself, which left Sam in a binder. Either stay quiet and know that they'd never get anywhere or speak up and reveal more than he had in four years of partnership.

"There's something else that the Navy doesn't ask and you don't tell." He stood up, and every movement betrayed the tension in Sam's body. "I might have to transfer anyway, G. I don't want to, but these three months have been an eye opener. I missed having you around."

The hand holding G’s beer lowered the bottle slowly at Sam’s words, setting it back on the table and pulling back all with a very precise motion. Using his hands on his knees for leverage, almost as if he was bracing himself, G stood as well. Facing each other this way, it was almost like that moment just before you were made, when you knew it was time to go for it or run like hell. “I wasn’t here to watch your back.”

Sam lowered his head and met G's gaze, expecting something, maybe a punch, but certainly not the words that came, because that had been the last thing on Sam's mind for three months. "That's not what I said, G. I wasn't missing an agent or a partner. I missed you. Do you get what I'm saying?"

G nodded. “I get what you’re saying. I was answering your question. I wasn’t here to watch your back. I had to trust the others would. That was what I didn’t like.”

"You left a good team. We were fine for a few months. We were more worried about you; I was more worried about you." He put his hands on his back pocket, but the gesture wasn't enough to dispel the tension around them. "What do you get? Or is this something else we don't talk about? Like your missions? Do I need to take that job? You tell me what's going on, G, because you haven't said much since you came back and I need your input before I talk to Hetty."

“I wasn’t worried about the team. They were in good hands.” Shaking his head, G actually smiled. “You can’t take the job. I put too much work into you for you to run off and leave me to train up a new partner. I don’t want another partner. And I don’t want to always worry because I’m not there to watch your back.”

G sighed and took a step closer. “Are you really going to make me say it? Or are you going to be the partner that knows me and accept that I get it and you shouldn’t take the job?”

Sam shook his head. "No, you don't need to say more." They both knew the rules, and this was the best answer G could give him without ever saying a word on the subject. "I'm going to take a shower. You can stay if you want. The couch is all yours."

G grabbed his arm before Sam could leave. “Sam, wait.” For once, it was easy to see the inner argument taking place in G’s head. It was written all over his face. “What I meant was I don’t want you to take the job. The house isn’t what made me want to come...” No word had ever been more difficult to speak or hear. “...home.”

"Now, I don't get it," Sam answered as he took a step backward. "I work for you, then everything stays the same, G, is that what you're telling me? Because that's fine. I like my partner back, my friend. If things change, then maybe I should be looking at a transfer, not Georgia, but maybe a request for some of the local field offices."

“Things are already changing, Sam. They _have_ changed.” G shrugged, huffing quietly. “This conversation wouldn’t have happened three months ago. I have rules about this, you know. No cops. No agents. And, we’re partners. This would be one of the dumbest ideas we’ve ever had.” He grinned. “Okay, letting Nate sing boy bands at karaoke might still be worse.”

"We've been slow on the uptake, because I didn't know we should have had this discussion three months ago." Sam looked down G's hand on his arm. "I'm not going to start buying you flowers or holding hands." He cracked a smile as he looked up. "So I _am_ asking for a transfer. It'll take time, especially if I want something like Corona, and it's still dumber than karaoke. At least Hetty has a good voice."

“Hetty singing Bon Jovi; there’s no competing with that.” Laughing, G squeezed his partner’s arm before letting go. “That’s all right. You can pick the bouquet yourself, I don’t mind.”

"I'll make you eat the bouquet," he said, snorting. "I'm still going to take a shower. Make yourself at home, find something to watch. It's not like you'll be sleeping anyway. I'll be out soon."

* * *

Sam and G walked in together, saying nothing, and they each split up, doing their own thing. It seemed that nothing had changed. Sam walked to Hetty's office and sat down.

"He finally talked to you," Hetty said.

"How do you do that?" Sam asked with a frown. "I haven't said anything. You haven't even seen G."

Hetty smiled. "I've seen enough."

Sam didn't usually question the strange things that Hetty knew. It was another one of those laws of nature he'd told G about, only this time it wasn't work or even work related, but his private life. "How?" he asked directly. Whatever they did, he wanted to know and make sure to stop it in case others picked up on it.

"The way you walk, the way he walks, just close enough to you that he doesn't look back, doesn't check who's behind him. Mr. Callen is never that relaxed unless he has you at his back, however that has not been the case since his return." She laced her fingers together and stared at Sam. "Does this recent change indicate that you have made a decision about that position in Georgia."

Sam nodded. "I have, and I'm staying. If it's possible," he added, because they had all signed the mobility agreement, and they could have transferred him without his consent.

"Then everything is back to normal," Hetty said with a satisfied smile on her face. "Thank you for speaking to me, Mr. Hanna."

"Actually, that's not all," Sam said. He leaned forward, lowering his voice without thinking about it. "The position made me think. I don't want to go that far, but I was thinking of Corona. It's close. I can stay at my house, keep my friend. I know that openings don't happen any day, and it could be months, even more, but I know you can do more than any transfer request. If you hear anything-"

"The Warfare Center? That's quite different from what we do here," Hetty said.

"So is the Contingency Response Field Office," Sam pointed out. "But that's almost like being in the Navy again, spend time aboard the ships, go into war zones. It's almost like going back for me." He shook his head. "I know it's a prestigious position, but it's not what I want. The Warfare Center would give me something different, and most of our software for our weapons, ships and planes comes from there."

"It's a much bigger office, inside the center. You'll have to deal with over a thousand civilians." She raised her index finger and swirled it around. "You don't have any of this or the secrecy. You go in an office where everyone sees you."

Sam nodded. "I know all of that, Hetty, but most offices aren't like this. Corona will give me what I want and it's big enough that I won't have to wait forever for a position as lead agent."

"You truly have thought of this," Hetty said, sounding surprised.

Sam smiled. "I have, Hetty, and this is best for everyone."

She looked toward the bullpen. "What about Mr. Callen? Is it best for him?"

"Yes, it is. He needs to work with them without me here," Sam answered.

"All right, I'll see what I can do, but no guarantees."

Sam stood up. "I wasn't expecting any. Now, I'll go see if we have any work to do that doesn't involve forms."

* * *

The lack of paperwork to fill out when he wasn’t lead on a case was disconcerting. As much as he usually put off his reports, it seemed wrong not to have as many to deal with at the end of a case. G was actually finished well before Sam, which never happened.

It also left G with time on his hands, time to think about things still left unsaid, as well as those a part of him was terrified had been said. Things like the word ‘home’. There were things implied in that word, things that went beyond the conversation with Sam and the mutual admissions of worry. Home was a word that came with roots and roots were things G had avoided putting down for a very long time.

Among those roots was this team. That was what he’d realized when he came back and everything seemed different. The assignments were just that, assignments. The team was something else entirely. And it was his as much as his house or his partner. It had been a long time since he had a place like this.

So, it was time to take his team back.

G passed the op room on his way down the upper hall and smiled to himself when he heard Eric talking to whatever video game he was owning at the moment. When he reached the door that was his destination, he knocked briskly once and took a moment to enjoy the surprise on Nate’s face.

“I owe you five minutes,” he said, stepping through the door without waiting for the psychologist to speak. He didn’t miss the tiny smile as Nate closed the door behind him.

Nate closed the file he had in front of him - G's file. He'd been looking at it since G had returned. There were a few scribbles, feeble attempts at comments, but they'd been erased until nothing could be readable. "You owe me ten," he said with a smile. "Or we could try this without a timer. It's how people converse in the real world."

G chuckled. He’d call it five minutes no matter how long it was and Nate knew it. “It’s a new-fangled and fancy idea of yours. But, alright, we can try that.”

"Are you going to tell me what brings you here?" Nate asked, raising his eyebrows. "Or should I guess? I can play Special Agent, even know how to use a gun now. My investigative skills lead me to believe that it has something to do with the way you and Sam have been acting."

Only training kept any sort of reaction from his face as G did no more than raise his own eyebrow at Nate’s, rather accurate, deduction. “Interesting guess. Evidence to support the final analysis?”

"You are here, aren't you?" Nate said, chuckling. "I think that's plenty of evidence. That and Hetty isn't following me around, asking me every five minutes if I've talked to you yet. She stopped after talking to Sam yesterday morning. I'm truly brilliant." He tilted his head and stared at the other man. G even looked more relaxed, or as relaxed as he ever looked. "Since we're trying this again, do you want to tell me how you're doing?"

“Fair point. I’m here,” G allowed with a smirk. “I want my team back, Nate. That’s all there is to it. If I say ‘I’m fine’ and mean it, will it make that happen? Sam’s done well. But, he’s my partner and this is my team and I’m home now. I want it back.”

"If you say it and convince me that you mean it, then yes, you get your team back," Nate said, knowing that at this point they were playing a game. If G was here, he was fine. "Did you fix whatever was happening with him?"

G settled back in his chair, fingers laced across his stomach. “There wasn’t anything to fix. Even the best partners get out of step after so much time on their own.” He shrugged. “We caught up on the three months we missed. Now it’s fine.”

"’Now it's fine’ would imply that it wasn't fine before." Nate sighed. "One day, I will pin you down and get you to answer all my questions, but since that would take weeks and Hetty would be standing outside my door for the entire time, I might not be so brave." He played with his pen, tapping it on the desk. "Three months alone has an impact. Why were these three months different from the time you were shot?"

"Because it wasn't a mission, Nate. I was home, recuperating, but I was coming back. Even though we changed the location of the office and we got Dom, I was always coming back," he said.

"And with a mission, you never know when or if you'll come back," Nate finished.

G nodded. "Even then, it wasn't easy. The first few missions I was on edge."

Nate chuckled. "You know that's exactly what Sam said when I asked him why things felt different." He stopped for a moment. "There's nothing wrong if you need more time, no matter what Hetty says. Are you sure that you're ready?"

G simply nodded. “I’m sure.” There wasn’t anything more to say.

"If you are," he said, before nodding toward the door. "Go back to your team. I'll let Hetty know that I'm clearing you. Don't make me regret it."

* * *

Sam got all of his things ready and walked to G's desk. "C'mon, let's go."

G looked at his watch. "It's six."

"We wrapped another case up, we'll be in overtime in a few minutes, Hetty will complain about it," he answered with a grin.

"Hetty will complain when I don't get all of the paperwork filed," G answered.

"It can wait until tomorrow."

"And we're going home, right?" G asked, suspicious.

"If you get your ass up," Sam answered. "Possibly before I retire."

"Fine." G shut down his laptop, took his duffel bag and followed Sam into the car. "You haven't washed her in two months."

"You haven't used your car in two months," Sam answered. "You can take her to the car wash if you don't like to ride in a dusty car, or feel free to drive."

G grinned. "I guess it's not that dirty."

"Good, now get in." Sam put his bag on the back seat and got in. The engine was on before G got in the car, and as soon as the passenger's door was closed. The music was their companion as he drove up the coast.

"This isn't the way home," G said after a while.

"I gotta make a few stops. You know we require food once in a while and no, a burger while sitting in a car watching a mark isn't food." He parked in front of a fire hydrant and stopped the car. "I'll be right back." Right back tuned into ten minutes, before Sam returned to the car.

"What's with you and Italian restaurants?"

Sam turned on the car and checked traffic before pulling out. "It's food, real food. Chinese you eat in paper containers, burgers come wrapped in paper, most of our food comes in Styrofoam. This is real food. I guess French too, but too much cream and it doesn't taste good when it gets cold, besides I'm not much into snails and frog legs."

"When did you become an expert in foreign cuisine?"

Sam smirked. "I'm an expert of a great many things. Some of us actually enjoy life outside of work," he said.

G snorted. "It was a cover, wasn't it?"

Sam laughed. "Chef. I learned to make the best risotto."

"And why are we stopping again? I could have walked faster than this."

"This is LA, you can always walk faster than this." Sam parked the car again. "It's Italian. You need good bread to go with good food." Sam got into the parking lot and got out of the car, without a word. This stop took even less time and when he returned, he put the bag in the back seat, and got back in the car. "Now, we can go home."

"About time," G mumbled without too much heat.

Thanks to lighter than usual traffic and Sam's driving, they got home in less than twenty minutes. Sam tossed his duffel bag in G's direction. "Get this, and I'll take the food."

"Yes, Mother," G answered. "We could have just called for something."

"We always call for something," Sam said as he opened the door of the house. "I'll bring the food out. We're eating like people and using the table." He went straight for the kitchen, leaving G to check all windows and rooms. He'd check the back door, not because he thought someone was inside, but because it was the only way that G would relax.

He warmed up the veal and put it in actual dishes, before bringing it into the dining room table. He had to make a few more trips for drinks, cutlery, the bread and finally a bottle of wine.

"Wow, you're becoming domesticated," G said.

Sam gave him a look that showed that he was not impressed. "We've been tog- doing this for two months now, and when's the last time we did this? Oh, I know, never. We can eat like normal people once in a while. Now, eat before it gets cold."

He took his time, eating methodically, mixing just the right of mushroom with the veal and a piece of bread, washing it down with the red wine. However, most of his attention was on G who finished his plate in less than ten minutes. "Not hungry, huh?" Sam said, smirking.

"I never said that."

"You didn't say how much you like this either," Sam pointed out.

"Who says I did?"

Sam snorted. "I've seen you eat things you don't like." He pushed his unfinished plate away, he put his napkin down and went to the other room. He came back with a cake in one hand and a box covered with a big bow and a card on top in the other. "You didn't really think I forgot what's today," he said, putting the cake and the box down.

"It's happened before. We were busy with the case," G answered with a shrug.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Only you." He shook his head before, smiling. "Happy birthday, G. Open the card first."

G looked at the box and card with the same care reserved for a suspicious package, but opened the card first. "You're always on my mind," he read, chuckling. "That's cheesy even for you."

"It's your first birthday card. It's supposed to be cheesy."

"How do you know?" G asked with a frown.

"You told me. Remember, dead sailor, kidnapped girl, it was our first case after you got shot."

"That was over two years ago."

"Two years and eight months. I told you I was getting you one and never got around." Sam shrugged. "Now, I have. You can open your gift now."

G uncovered the box and took out the leather album. He began flipping through it. There were pictures of the current team, some from before, of Dom, pictures of Gibbs and Abby, cards from them. He looked at Sam, but no words seem to come.

"That's home, too. You should have it," Sam said.

"Thank you. I... I don't know what to say."

"You've already said thanks. That's all you say when you get a gift."

"I never got a gift for my birthday, either," G admitted.

"Until now." Sam hesitated for a moment and then leaned forward, elbow on the table. "I know the rules and we were going to wait, but it's been two months and we haven't- screw this." He closed the gap and pressed his lips against G's, a soft touch that only lasted a moment.

G’s eyes widened for a fraction of an instant before narrowing, taking on the same look as when he was assessing a situation in the field. Then one corner of his mouth twitched upward. “I never pegged you as a man to hesitate.”

Sam opened his mouth to answer, but ended up laughing. "You are-" He just sighed. "G, we've been friends for what? Seven years now? Do you know we've never discussed lovers? Not once? I know you were involved because of cases, but other than that, nothing, and those people were women. You can see why I'm not sure what you want here."

“Sam, you kissed me and I didn’t punch you. Do you really need to discuss this in detail?” G shook his head. “I knew what could happen as soon as you said there were things the Navy didn’t ask that first night. I wouldn’t still be here if that was going to be an unwelcome problem.”

"I'm not Nate; you remember that, right?" Sam asked. "You're going to have to talk to me. I'm not saying details, G, but a little more than that. It's like going out with a virgin, you know? Kind of weird not knowing what to do or not to do."

“I know you’re not Nate.” G rolled his eyes. “You read me without having to talk about things...usually. Okay.” Sighing, G nodded as though coming to a decision with himself. “There have been women, not just cases. There have been boys, a boy, and I use the term because I was a boy. And there’s this.” Leaning forward, he kissed Sam without the hesitation he’d teased his partner about.

“Clear now?”

"It's getting clearer," he answered, chuckling. "You can't really read these things. It's not like people have things like 'bottom', 'top', 'no penetration' written on their forehead. Most people who see a 6'2" former Navy seal don't exactly read gay." His hand slid over G's thigh, to lean even closer. "I'm not exactly a boy. You'll have to answer a few more questions along the way, but this is a good start."

“Of course it’s not on their foreheads. We put it in their files during profiling,” G deadpanned. As his hand wrapped around the back of Sam’s neck, he shifted until he’d almost erased the distance between them. “I’m not a boy, either. Ask your questions without making me talk and I’ll give you the answers.”

"Not in my file," Sam answered, before mirroring G's hold, pressing their foreheads together. "I know we were going to wait until a transfer, but it's not like they'll ask, and we won't tell. I'll sign you a statement to exonerate you from any charges of sexual harassment, if you like," he said, jokingly, before ending the statement with another kiss. "Let's go into the bedroom."

G nodded, but didn’t move right away. When he did, it was forward to kiss Sam once more before he finally moved back enough they could stand up without knocking each other over. Picking up the cake from the table and the forks from dinner, he raised an eyebrow as though daring Sam to speak. “Don’t have to come back later.”

"You're right. You'll need to eat afterwards, to keep your energy up," he teased, before gesture for G to go first. When he did, Sam put his arm around G's waist and kissed G's neck. "Let's try words if you don't like something. Black eyes would be difficult to explain to Hetty," he said in a soft tone that he had never used with G before. He kissed G again before letting go and walking ahead, opening the bedroom door and clearing one of the night stands.

When he was done, G was already there, and Sam took the cake from him and put it down. He turned and put an arm around G, taking a step closer just as he pulled G closer. The kiss was gentle at first, but two months of waiting came spilling out, and he grabbed G's shirt, pulling it up, fighting with it. "Where's your gun?"

"Here." G pushed Sam away just enough he could open the buttons of his shirt at the wrists and neck, pulling it the rest of the way over his head. He reached behind him, pulled his SIG-Sauer from the waistband of his jeans, and, after a moment's hesitation followed by a quick breath, offered the pistol to Sam.

"You didn't have to do that," Sam said, taking then gun and putting it on the same night stand as the cake. "I'd rather not have anything go off; that's all. We're trying not to get shot at so much, remember?" He took his own gun out, and put it on the other night stand, and then bent down to take off the gun he had attached to his ankle.

Sam took his shirt off as well and moved closer. "G, relax. It's still us and I'm always gonna have your back." His hands moved over G's chest in a gentle motion, while he leaned down and kissed the scar from the bullet wounds. He pulled G as he walked backwards and sat on the bed. His lips returned to G's body, kissing the other scars. There were too many and some too close to vital organs.

He rested his forehead against G's stomach, eyes closed, while he tried to forget where those bullets had hit or how close to death G had been or how it could happen again. He took a deep breath and when he opened his eyes again, his hands went to G's jeans, opening them up.

Standing between Sam’s legs, G bent his head forward, watching his own fingers move over bare shoulders and move up to almost cradle Sam’s head against his body. Once Sam got his jeans open, G helped to push them down, needing a moment to get his boots off before he could step out of the jeans. He didn’t bother taking off his socks, but instead returned kiss Sam again, hands on his shoulders to urge the larger man further back on the bed.

Sam opened his own jeans and slipped them as he moved back. Getting naked with G so close wasn't easy, but he managed, before grabbing G's wrist and pulling him on the bed. Sam looked up, grinning. "We're breaking a few rules. Let's live dangerously," he teased before stretching up and kissing G again.

“We already live dangerously.” G chuckled against Sam’s lips. Kissing came surprisingly easy. But, soon it wasn’t enough and he moved down, mouth following hands as they mapped their way over Sam’s chest. A slide of skin against skin accompanied his movements as he returned to Sam’s lips and G groaned into the kiss that followed, hips canting instinctively.

Sam groaned at the contact. They had started slow, and Sam would have liked to take his time, but neither seemed to want to now. "G, we need to move," he said, frustration clear on his voice. He kissed G again, and then pushed him off. He scrambled to his side of the bed, and opened the drawer. He fished out lube and a condom, and then turned to G, with his hand stretched. "Whatever you want; I'm good."

G looked at Sam for a moment. The corner of his mouth turned up again in a half smile as he reached for the condom and opened the packet. His fingers closed around Sam, however, instead of himself and he stroked him slowly a couple time before putting the condom on his partner. When that was done, G placed a kiss on Sam’s shoulder. “I trust you, Sam.”

Sam nodded. "I knew that already." He pulled G down for another kiss. Their lips found each other easily now, with a sense of familiarity that shouldn't exist so soon. He turned them around, without breaking the kiss. "We do this nice and slow." He grinned at G. "I don't want to start comparisons, but there are obvious reasons for that."

G snorted and smacked Sam in the stomach. “It’s okay, I don’t go into a deal with high expectations, anyway.” He lay back, pulling Sam on top of him, a relaxed smile belying the new tension tightening his every muscle. Dragging Sam to him for another kiss, he shifted with uncharacteristic restlessness, his free hand moving up and down Sam’s back.

The words were said so casually, just like when G mentioned never receiving a card or a birthday gift. They were normal for the man, but Sam stopped moving, and then just smiled at his partner. "Let's give you reasons to raise your expectations."

He uncapped the lube with his thumb and poured in on his hand, tossing the bottle between G's legs, planning to use a lot more, until G's muscles relaxed and he didn't look like a wounded animal ready to defend himself. Sam started kissing him again, while his fingers mapped G's body, closing around his cock first, bringing him to hardness before moving down toying with his sac, and then even lower, one finger pressing against the opening, teasing the tight ring.

There weren't reassurances, because they made things even weirder. They weren't kids, but tough men used to dismiss pain. Touches and kisses did their own reassurances. "You're gorgeous, G; you know that?"

“Sam...” G’s words trailed off and he just shook his head. But, his eyes betrayed more of the inner struggle going on in his head than he would have liked. Even as his body reacted, arching into Sam’s touch, his eyes followed every movement, never closing, hardly blinking. He watched as Sam’s hands moved over his skin, watched as they kissed and kissed again, taking in every detail.

His own quiet moan at that first exploratory press of Sam’s finger startled even him. Those eyes stared up at the other man for a moment. Then, grasping Sam’s face between his hands, he leaned up and kissed him, hard, eyes squeezing shut.

The kiss didn't seem to end, and Sam was happy to go along. Small steps, that was what they needed. Time for both of them to get used to this change in their relationship. Stability to show G that closing his eyes wasn't tantamount to a sacrifice.

When they came up for breath, Sam didn't move away, his lips brushing against G. "Right here, G. No one is going to hurt you on my watch." He kissed G again, while he kept exploring G's body, increasing the pressure until G's body relaxed enough for a single finger to push inside. 

Sam drew back and stared at his partner. "Been a long time. We'll take it slow." He leaned down and captured G's lip between his teeth and tugged gently, before letting go, only to kiss him again.

G’s lips moved, though he never said the words on his mind. Instead he huffed softly, smiling a little as he pushed his hips against Sam’s.

He kissed back almost desperately, not letting the connection of lips and teeth quite break before he was back for another. Hands travelling up and down Sam’s arms, over his shoulders, would occasionally stop, gripping tightly. And when they relaxed again, the rest of his body would relax a little further. Bit by tiny bit, G let go, the tension in his muscles shifting from ‘fight or flight’ to something else just as visceral.

“Not too slow,” he said at last, chuckling just a little. “Caution to the wind, Agent Hanna.”

"Shut up, G. I'm taking lead on this," he answered, smiling. 

Sam stroked his cock, keeping the condom in place, before pouring more lube on his fingers. "I kinda like the kissing. It's the only way to stop you from talking too much," he joked. The smile died as he pressed their foreheads together, just as two fingers pushed inside. "I've been thinking about this," he whispered. "Not just once, the how changed each time, it seemed important, but it's not. Watching you relax... Fuck, G, better than I thought."

“And here I was thinking the kissing said more than talking could,” G teased, breathing shallow as his body adjusted to the further stretching. As if to prove his point, he tilted his head, capturing Sam’s lips for what must have been the thousandth time that night. His eyes drifted closed as he took his time with this kiss, slowly nipping and sucking at Sam’s lower lip. When his eyes opened again, they were heavy-lidded and slightly unfocused.

“The months I was away, I realized how much I rely on you to have my back,” he admitted lowly. “It scared me, Sam. I can relax around you without even knowing I’m doing it.”

The smile spread slowly until he was grinning. "You say that like it's a bad thing. Seven years you've known me, four as your partner, G. It's about time that you can relax with me around. Let's see if we can get you to relax in a very different way."

“I don’t think I’ve relaxed since the eighties,” G chuckled.

When Sam lubed his fingers again, he shifted. His cock slid against G's side, as he moved down to kiss his chest, nipping at his collar bone. Soft kisses peppered G's skin, leaving a trail down to G's nipple. Sam licked it into hardness while he pressed three fingers inside, moving them slowly, alternating between stretching his partner and then using two fingers to brush against his prostate.

An intake of breath was the only hint of discomfort and even that slipped into the harsher pants of pleasure as G’s body relaxed around Sam’s fingers. His head finally fell back against the pillow, eyes closing once more as those fingers hit a spot two fifteen year old boys had managed to miss years before. Hands fisting in the sheets beneath him, G’s hips began to rock, meeting the movement of Sam’s hand without thought.

As G relaxed, Sam gained confidence. His touches were less hesitant, not as slow. His own need showed in the possessive touches, the needy kisses. There was no need to hold back, not when they were both exposing themselves completely. "Ready, G?"

G’s eyes opened with an effort, wide and dark. He met Sam’s gaze and nodded, the signal to go in the field translating readily enough to the bedroom.

Sam answered with another kiss, before positioning between G's legs. He slicked the condom with more lube, before he covered G's body with his. The kissing started again as he hook one of G's legs on his elbow and he positioned his cock, blunt head pressing in slowly. Sam was barely breathing as he pushed inside, inch by inch, his lips on a never-ending quest to distract his lover.

When Sam entered him at last, G groaned into his mouth, the sound almost immediately swallowed by the renewed kisses. His arms looped around Sam’s neck and shoulders, clinging in a way they both knew he’d deny come morning. But, in that moment, he held on tightly, mouth fused with Sam’s, his body stretching to accommodate the cock inside him, opening him up until he pushed back in a silent request for more.

"Want you so much." The truth of Sam's words was evident in his voice, low and rasp as he kissed G's jaw and neck, returning to G's mouth, plundering it with his tongue as he thrust in and out, long and smooth strokes mimicked by his hand sliding up and down the length of G's cock.

The rhythm quickened, concerns and worries were put at the back of their minds as a primeval need took control. Sam moved faster, the muscles of his back glistening with sweat as he rocked into G. Their harsh breathing and the noise of bodies moving against each other broke the silence when words were impossible. "G... need to see you come, baby."

G’s fingers pressed into the slick skin of Sam’s shoulders, an anchor as they moved together with the same synchronization they had in almost everything else. The lines of tension throughout his body drew tighter, muscles straining as he pushed into Sam’s hand, head thrown back and exposing his neck to Sam’s kisses.

“Sam-” Whatever he had been about to say was cutoff with a choked cry as his orgasm hit, the sudden and complete release of tension in his body causing his eyes to close as he shuddered in Sam’s arms.

Sam pushed faster, needier, cock squeezed by G's body. The slow built up had been replaced by something else. Control and finesse were gone, and after a few more strokes, Sam came with a grunt. 

The frenzy from minutes before was replaced with stillness. Sam lay there, holding his weight up on his elbows until he could think again. He let go of G's leg and held the condom as he pulled out. He took it off and tied it off, before getting up. "I'll be right back."

On his return, the condom was gone. Instead, Sam was holding a damp, warm towel. He got back in bed and he cleaned G up with gentle movement. "Better than you remember?"

Having opened his eyes as soon as Sam left him, G pushed himself up onto his elbows, watching every movement avidly once more, but without the edge of wariness to his expression. He sighed quietly as Sam finished his ministrations and took the towel away, tossing it on the floor with his clothes to pick up later.

“That sounds like someone fishing for compliments,” he teased, sitting up further to steal another quick kiss. “I feel good, Sam. Relaxed, even.” He smiled an easy smile. “And ready to eat my birthday cake, now.”

Sam looked at the towel. "G, I know you live in an empty house, but we got things like chairs and hampers." He grinned as he leaned closer and kissed him. "I don't need compliments. I know I'm good." He settled against the headboard and pulled the sheets up to their lap. "Grab that cake and forks. I'll spare you the candles and the singing. We can go straight to the sugar."

“Now I know how you keep that girlish figure.” G snorted as he turned to lift the cake from the nightstand, one hand scooping up the forks as well. He balanced the cake between them, where their thighs met as they sat side by side, and handed on fork over to Sam. “Singing and candles can wait until next year,” he added, carefully keeping his eyes on the cake as he dug his fork into it.

"By not eating wax?" Sam joked as he took the fork. He looked over, and you didn't have a behavioral psychologist to know what was being left unsaid. "We can do that, yeah, but there's my birthday first, and then we need Christmas gifts and cards. At least one of us should celebrate." He picked up some of the cake and ate it, still watching his lover. 

As Sam started speaking, G’s fork stilled and he began to nod. But then the words seemed to catch up with him and he turned his head to give Sam that patented little half-smile. “You didn’t seem to care for the Willie Nelson impression. Should I try the Beatles for your birthday?”

Sam took another piece of cake and ate it slowly. "You can't sing, G, but you could always try Marilyn next," he teased. He leaned over and kissed G's cheek. "Birthdays and Christmas and whatever else we want to celebrate, just skip Willie Nelson."

“Only if Marilyn wears jeans and work boots and carries a Glock,” G chuckled. After the briefest of hesitations, he leaned in to receive the kiss on his cheek. Then, smiling, he went back to eating his first birthday cake. The question of what celebrations they could share would wait until another day.

"We can sing something else." Sam waited until they were done with the cake and then got up, taking the cake with him. "I'll put it in the fridge. We can have it for breakfast." On his return, he got into bed and put his arm around G's waist. "Let's get some sleep."

G tensed, then pushed away the sheet. "I should sleep on the couch."

Sam sighed, before releasing G. "Stay." He sat up and got his gun and made a show to put it under his pillow, near to the edge, then he stretched over and reached for G's gun and put it under his lover's pillow. "Roll to your side, toward the wall and the door." He lay back down, spooning G, his arm around G in a much tighter hold. "Look, we can both reach your gun like this and if we roll around, we can reach mine, although we won't, because I've got your back, G. You're safe here." Sam kissed the back of G's neck. "Get some sleep now, and if you have to get up… then you do."

"Not my fault if I wake you up." G covered Sam's hand with his and squeezed. "Night, Sam."

"Goodnight, G," Sam answered.

For the first time in ages, G Callen slept through the night.

* * *

"To Sam and his promotion," Kensi said raising her glass.

The bar was dark, and they had a table in a corner. Nate and Eric had their backs to the room, with all the agents keeping all points of entry under surveillance. It wasn't a case, but habits were hard to break even when saying goodbye to a member of their team.

Glasses and bottles went up all around. "To Mr. Hanna and the continuation of a brilliant career," Hetty said. "I apologise for any delay."

Sam snorted. "Six months, Hetty? I didn't think it would happen so quickly."

"We'll miss you," Eric added.

"I'm not dead, just going to a different office," Sam said.

"Yeah, really, we're not getting rid of him. I bet he'll annoy us all the time." G smirked over the top of the bottle.

"That's right. I have to make sure that you don't get too lazy." He took a sip of his own beer.

"I still don't know why you want to leave us," Marty said. "We're the best team."

"And very modest," Sam said.

"Sam has a reason he doesn't want to share with us," G said, smiling.

"Shut up, G," Sam answered.

G shrugged and looked at Sam innocently. "I'm just saying that it's not right. Brothers - and sister - through fire. It's only fair that you share."

Sam snorted. "If you put that way, then I guess I should." He kept his eyes on a spot in the middle of the table, without looking at any one. "I didn't want to break the rules getting involved with someone in a supervisory capacity, ergo the request for a transfer," he said before taking another sip of the beer.

Silence fell around the table, and then Kensi spoke up. "You and Hetty?" she asked incredulous.

Sam spit the beer, choking. G clapped Sam's back with a grin on his face. "Yes, why didn't you tell us about Hetty?"

"Mr. Callen, I would appreciate if you stopped joking about such matters," Hetty said. "And Mr. Hanna if you don't wish to share your reasons, you certainly don't have to."

"I'm not lying," he said, sounding insulted.

"Well, if it's not Hetty," Nate said, "then you aren't telling the truth."

Eric banged his head on the table before straightening up. "For a bunch of agents, a psychologist and super-woman, you're all blind. It's not Hetty; it's Callen."

Kensi blinked. "What? That's ... What about the assumption that a 6'2" former Navy seal is straight? You told us that."

Sam shrugged. "It is a good assumption. I never said it was the right conclusion, though."

"So you two are ... gay?" Marty said.

Sam took another sip and then shrugged again. "I am. G here doesn't limit himself."

"So you've set up house," Marty said with a smirk.

"No, I've set up house, long before this," Sam said with a snort. "G just lives somewhere."

"I'm insulted; I have a house," G said.

Sam smirked. "You own a building shaped like a house. You don't have sheets. You don't even have a bed, G."

"Is that why you never want to come over?" G asked.

"To do what? There's no food, no furniture and no TV. You think you'd at least get internet, but no instead you use your phone."

"It's not my fault I have trusting neighbors with unsecured internet." G shrugged. "I'll get around to it."

Sam chuckled. "Sure you will."

"Awww, you're adorable," Kensi said, trying not to laugh.

"She just called us adorable, G," Sam said in a huff.

"Harsh." G looked at Sam. "I think we should leave now. If they are going to insult us, we should go somewhere else."

Sam drained his beer and then took G's bottle and finished it too. "Never leave beer."

"Another one of those unofficial rules Seals follow, Mr. Hanna?" Hetty asked.

"Damn right, and now-" Sam got up. Kensi was the first to jump up and hug him. He wasn't going far and they would see each other plenty of times, but it felt like a goodbye as he hugged everyone. "Bye, guys."

G stood by him, walking shoulder to shoulder. His hand went to Sam's back. "You all right?"

Sam thought for a moment and then nodded. "I'll miss them but it's worth it." He leaned down and kissed G lightly. "Let's go home."

* * *

Sam put two plates on the island and then made his way past G, who was drinking his tea. "Eat your eggs," he said as he pulled out a container of milk.

G snorted. "Yes, Mother."

"And drink some milk," he added as he filled two glasses. Sam gulped half a glass, before reaching for a fork. "We're wrapping up our case. Barring any new emergencies, I should be out by four."

"With all the overtime you've been putting in, you shouldn't have to go in," G said while tasting his eggs.

Sam snorted. "Says the man that lives in the office."

"Not anymore," G answered.

"I know," Sam answered. "You know, we could get chairs and not stand through breakfast."

"I don't eat breakfast," G said.

Sam laughed. "That's what you've been telling me for the last four months."

"I spend too much time here." G drank his milk and put his glass down, and stared at Sam. "We can get chairs when we have free time."

"I won't hold my breath." Sam threw out the rest of his breakfast and put the dish in the sink. "You spend so much time here, you might as well move in," he said with fake nonchalance.

There was complete silence for a moment, and then G shrugged. "I own a house; you're renting. We should move there."

"You don't even have furniture," Sam answered

"I know. We can bring your things and buy what we need. Make it into a ... home," G said, almost tripping on the last word.

Sam nodded. "It makes sense. We can discuss the details tonight at dinner."

G groaned. "I can't believe you're making me go to some fancy Italian restaurant."

Sam chuckled. "You'll survive." He opened the kitchen drawer and pulled out ID, leaving G's there. He took out his gun, checked it and holstered it again. "I'll pick you up at the office." He stopped by G and kissed him. "Watch your back out there."


End file.
